


Surcease

by Canaan



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, Creepy, M/M, Pre-ship, Stand Alone, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 11:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canaan/pseuds/Canaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was on the order of a temporal burr: a roughness of a sort.  He wouldn't have troubled himself about it, except it <i>itched</i>, and not in a physical way he could scratch."  pre-future!Doctor/future!Master</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surcease

**Author's Note:**

> Written for RoachPatrol for Fandom Stocking 2010. Future!AU and stand-alone. Minor spoiler for EoT.
> 
> BR by Yamx. Disclaimer: I don't own them and I'm not making any money.

He tracked it from Kethras to !Xil*lothopt--and without even a proper TARDIS! It was on the order of a temporal burr: a roughness of a sort. He wouldn't have troubled himself about it, except it _itched_ , and not in a physical way he could scratch. He wouldn't believe the pains he was going to over it, except it was there all the time--when he was eating, when he was sleeping, when he was _fucking_ \--and the last time something plagued him this way, it was those infernal drums.

He'd suffered too long with a malaise of someone else's making. He would, by the bloody stump of Rassilon's tongue, find the source of this irritation. And if he couldn't master it, well, he might just cut it out.

The Time Ring finally brought him to Beautiful Snowdrop during the Third Dynasty . . . which was looking somewhat the worse for wear. The Master picked his way around heat-twisted sculptures and empty reflecting pools. It was close now, so close he could taste it on the back of his tongue, feel the pulse of it beating at his cranial sac as if searching for the smallest imperfection, the least path into his brain. He detoured around the charred remains of a noodle bar and cut through a small garden, kicking an empty rubbish bin out of his way and rounding the badly damaged gate to see an unexpected and familiar blue box heeled over on its side. He touched it and the itching stopped.

The TARDIS's lower door hung open. He knelt, lifted the upper one, and looked inside.

The console room was new to him, and so was the man inside, but there was no mistaking him for anyone else. His dark hair was scattered lightly with gray. Dark eyes blinked blankly at the Master from above high cheekbones, and a nose like a knife blade cut the copper skin of his face. "I think I should know you," the Time Lord said.

The Master swung his legs over the edge of the door and dropped lightly to the wall. "You should," he agreed. It would be a bit of a climb to the console, but in the state the Doctor was in, he didn't think he had to worry about doing it quickly.

The Doctor shook his head, struggling to his knees. "I'm sorry, I don't . . . " He seemed to lose his train of thought as he got one foot under him and flailed for balance. He sneezed, and the golden visual trace of artron energy hung in the air before him.

Oh. This was _marvelous_. "Quite all right. Regeneration sickness? You look a bit . . . underdone."

"I don't know," the Doctor confessed. "It's all a bit of a blur. Meaning no offense . . . who are you? What should I call you?"

"You may call me the Master." The Master waited, watching for any reaction.

"The Master," the Doctor said, rolling the appellation around on his tongue. "Funny sort of a name."

The Master grinned and walked toward him. "No funnier than yours," he said mildly.

The Doctor tried to stand again. The Master took pity on him, offering him a hand. The Doctor took it and struggled to his feet. "Yes, well, I'm afraid I don't know that, either." His voice tried for matter-of-fact and missed by parsecs. He swayed alarmingly.

"That's all right," the Master said, tenderly drawing his dearest enemy into his arms and holding him steady.

The Doctor shuddered, then lay his head on his shoulder.

The Master said, " _I_ know who you are. Shh. Let me take care of you right now. I'll help you remember."


End file.
